#100peoplepoems part eight: Chella

This poem is for my wife, on her birthday.

It’s also a hint about her present.

xxxx

I wanted to give you the sky.

You’ve looked at it longingly so many times.

Face pressed to the window

Eyes shining, expression sublime

I wanted to hang the glittering 

Things always catching your eye.

Around your neck.

Hand you the moon 

On a stick.

You make friends so easily.

I hang back, at a loss for what to say

While a waitress hugs you, near tears.

And an old man 

Tells you all about his love 

Of lighthouses.

A two year old takes your hand to show you his favourite toy

A teenager whispers her fears.

Even the planets and stars

Tell you their secrets

On clear nights.

Suddenly, out on the street,

You’re calling  the names

Of your friends far away:

“Jupiter! Sirius! Mars!

Look, it’s Orion again!”

We wave to the ISS, 

(You always know where it’s likely to be)

You relish the absolute dark

That calls down the Milky Way.

I never know just what to say

You can make friends with nebulae. I

Hang back, hiding under a cloud. 

Earthbound and shy.

But here: look through the lens;

Point it out of the window upstairs, 

Introduce me to all of your friends.

And know that I wanted to give you the sky.

But I couldn’t, of course:

We both know

It was already yours.